


It's Not Christmas Without You

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, F/M, Romance, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Macy's general attitude towards the holiday season is a firm "bah humbug," since she's still angry and heartbroken after seeing Harry kissing someone else.  Harry, meanwhile, is still stubbornly convinced that his love for Macy is unrequited.  Thankfully, these two hapless nerds in love get a generous nudge of Christmas spirit to find their way into each others' arms.  Takes place after 2x08, "The Rules of Engagement."
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 43
Kudos: 116





	1. It's Christmas, and you're so far away

Macy glared at the overindulgent display of festive decorations draped over every single surface within SafeSpace, wondering why she couldn’t just skip over this whole fake-happy season and get back to moping without having to constantly see sparkling tinsel and happy reindeer, much less that despicable mistletoe.

Christmas songs were even worse, and there were plenty of them playing through the SafeSpace sound system every day. They’d started up like clockwork the day after Thanksgiving and continued, the familiarly syrupy lyrics of winter romance which had once massaged her hopeful heart in its confused fixation on a certain whitelighter, and which now proceeded to bludgeon her dashed hopes into yet more bloodied and resentful smithereens.

If she had to hear “All I Want for Christmas is You” one more time, she was going to scream, kick over the big Christmas tree by the entranceway, and set it on fire. Maybe send a handwritten letter of complaint to Mariah freaking Carey for good measure. In some idiotic frenzy of doomed wistful fantasizing, she’d started out the season thinking of Harry whenever she heard that song, but since she’d seen him kissing Abigael, the cutesy love anthem was just downright nauseating. 

She’d been such a fool, thinking she knew how Harry felt about her, that once she got up the nerve to verbalize her feelings, he’d open his arms and she’d be home, finally, after all this wasted time not wanting to be anywhere else. It was only her fear that had stopped her from saying it, even to herself, until the feelings built up so powerfully she could no longer deny them or try to cover them up with some crush on Harry’s doppelgänger. 

Yes, she was drawn to James, attracted, but only because he was a part of Harry, another way to get to know him without having to face the deepest, most frighteningly accurate layer of her true desires. It was a line of thinking which, with only the slightest coaxing from Mel, had made her realize she needed to be honest with Harry that it was only him she wanted.

Yet it seemed that it just took one sexy little scheming demon to distract Harry and make him forget he ever felt anything for Macy. All she even knew, from what she heard in his mind when she had the Source within her, was that Harry was thinking about kissing her. But that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, right? Maybe he thought about kissing lots of people, whether or not he had feelings for them. As for what he’d told Mel, maybe her sister had misunderstood. Either that, or Harry’s idea of “having feelings for someone” was way different from Macy’s. Even now, when she was completely infuriated with him, she didn’t want to kiss anyone else.

That hurt most of all.

She tried to block out the exuberant warbling of Michael Buble and the merry chitchat of everyone she passed as she made her way to the gym, stopping short in her tracks with her mouth hanging open when she walked in to find Harry, and only Harry. He must have asked Jordan if he could use the gym for a morning workout, a possibility she hadn’t counted on in all her careful plans to avoid him unless she absolutely _had_ to interact with him.

Harry was jabbing at a punching bag with brutal force, in a world of his own, and didn’t even notice her arrival until Macy cleared her throat.

“Oh,” he panted, turning to face her sheepishly. “Hello, Macy.”

‘Hello, Macy.’ Is that all he had to say for himself?

God, she hated him.

She hated his soulful blue eyes, the sheen of sweat above his unfairly kissable lips, and the slight ruffle of his hair. The sensuous layer of stubble on his face added insult to injury. She hated that grey t-shirt slicked tight to his gorgeous body, showing off taut biceps and hinting at sculpted pecs. She pretty much wanted to murder those black sweatpants clinging to his exquisite ass, and she guessed her irritation was pretty evident from the look on her face.

“Is...everything alright?” he asked, striding to a nearby bench to take a slug of water from a travel bottle.

“I came here looking for Maggie because she wasn’t in her office downstairs,” said Macy in a clipped, formal tone. “But she’s not here, so I’ll just…”

“Wait, don’t leave,” he beckoned, still getting his breath back. 

She would _not_ think about other situations that might leave him breathless, naked, raunchy situations in her bed, even though that hitch in his voice did all sorts of sexy, bad things to her body. Why did he still have this insane ability to turn her on, just like that? Infuriating. Unacceptable.

Harry was, as usual, clueless. It didn’t come as a surprise because she knew all about being highly intelligent without the slightest ability to read into other people’s behavior, much less her own. Maybe they had it in common, which was just one more damn reason they were a terrible idea, a problematic combination of incompatible elements that nonetheless generated all this insufferable heat and passion, because life was not fucking fair, and Christmas was apparently the cruelest season.

The pause in their pathetically awkward conversation extended through her hesitation and his careful acknowledgement of it.

“Can we talk?” He asked, looking so hopeful, like she used to feel, and it tore her apart all over again. “Macy, you seem upset with me these days, and I just thought perhaps we might clear the air. I know we’ve had our disagreements of late…”

“Our _disagreements_?” She practically spat. “Fine, you want to know what’s bothering me, I’ll tell you. I saw you kissing Abby.”

His face drained of color. “Macy, please don’t misunderstand--”

“What would I possibly misunderstand, Harry?” she asked, walking towards him confrontationally. Before she knew it they were toe to toe, his closeness and the scent of his aftershave mingled in sweat sending irrepressible shivers of desire through her. She could feel his body heat and she wanted it all over her, but instead she went off on a righteous tirade.

“Why you would _kiss_ a pathological liar who tried to kill me and has consistently manipulated us at every turn? Why you would risk all of our safety by starting a relationship with someone we ought to see as a potential enemy, if anything? I mean, I get the whole, keep your enemies closer thing, but I think you’re taking just a little bit too far.”

She couldn’t stand the acid in her voice, didn’t want to be mad at him and see how her words made his face fall, but what else could she do? How else could she protect her nearly decimated heart from even more pain, knowing how easy it was for him to wound her? Just a look, a word, one kiss wantonly bestowed on someone else; it didn’t take much for Harry Greenwood to steal every bit of her inner peace, to take away her gravity by showing her he wouldn’t be there to catch her fall. He just didn’t care the way she did, and there was no point pretending otherwise.

“It was a mistake,” he ventured, voice even despite the storm in his eyes which she couldn’t begin to understand the source of. “I regret it, and I’m deeply sorry you witnessed my momentary transgression into insanity. From the second it happened, I’ve been wishing I could take it back, and believe me, the very last thing I plan to do is begin a _relationship_ with Abigael.”

“Don’t let me stand in your way, Harry,” she retorted, bitter. “I mean, just because you got your hand stuck in the cookie jar, you don’t have to miss out on _whatever_ it is about Abby that has you sooo captivated. Just be careful, and watch your back. We don’t need to deal with any extra danger as a result of you bringing a wolf into our fold.”

“I wonder if you’re deliberately misunderstanding me,” he answered, brow knitting in frustration. 

He stepped back and crossed his arms, and she put her hands on her hips in silent retort. As if he couldn’t help himself, his eyes flicked contemplatively over her white chiffon top, lingering for a second on the tie at the low neckline, a heated pink rushing back into his cheeks as he met her eyes again. 

“I’m not interested in Abigael. I agree that any further entanglement with her would be a liability which is simply not worth it.”

“I guess that entanglement felt pretty damn good in the moment, though, didn’t it?” Her eyes flashed as he gulped.

“That’s truly bothersome to you, isn’t it? Inconvenient, I suppose. Is it really that difficult for you to believe I have human emotions, weaknesses and needs?” Harry asked indignantly. “Do you put me on such an angelic, untouchable pedestal that you think I don’t fall prey to anger, unrequited love, fear, embarrassment, bad judgement, or lust, as often as anyone else does? Well, I’m so sorry I fucked up and invited danger into our fold with exactly one ill-advised and already apologized-for kiss.”

Her eyebrows shot up at the sound of him actually swearing, and he picked up on her reaction immediately, shooting her an incisive glare. “Yes, Macy, sometimes I curse.”

He was really mad now, fuming in fact, pacing around before he circled back to smash a fist into the punching bag. That hard to hurt, since he'd taken off his gloves, but it was like he needed a bit of physical pain right then to take the edge off of an emotional torment. It made her wonder if he’d come here to blow off some steam because he was upset, too, just like she was, but why would he be so miserable? Hadn’t he gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he blown off enough steam with Abby, scratched whatever itch she satisfied for him?

Annoyingly, Harry was really fucking hot when he was mad. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him worked up like this before, had definitely never even imagined him swearing, and the waves of erotic curiosity he was setting off inside her were highly unsettling. Desperately, she searched through the other words he’d just said to find something she could use to keep arguing. It was the only way she could hold herself back from stopping him short with a hand to his sweaty chest and kissing him with all she had. 

“ _Lust_?” She scoffed. “Please, I don’t need to know the details of your sordid little tryst with Abby.”

“She’s not the one I’ve been lusting for, and worst of all, you know it!” He accused, pointing at her as her blood pumped molten with anger and arousal. “You know how I feel about you, but you have evaded every single attempt I have made to discuss it. You have obfuscated me with confusing and unintelligible remarks until I can’t even see straight, and frankly, it’s maddening. _You,_ Macy Vaughn, are maddening. I can only theorize that you wanted to let me down easy, but now for some strange reason, you’re irate that I tried to move on!”

“I don’t know how you feel about me, Harry. I thought I did.” Her voice had taken on that hollow sound it got when she was running away from her emotions. Didn’t he recognize it by now? Couldn’t he hear the pain reverberating in the words?

“Macy, I _worship_ the ground you walk on.” His eyes were wet all of a sudden, his jaw tense. The rage had fled from his voice, replaced by a tenderness for which she was completely unprepared. 

The world stopped.

She couldn’t bear the enormity of his confession, or the one it instantly evoked in her own feelings, though she couldn’t push the heavy words past her lips when she was caught in this bewildered shock.

Harry mistook her silence for yet more evasion and plunged on, back to ranting. “But it’s clear to me that you don’t feel the same, and it hurts, quite frankly, to hold onto a flame like this all alone. Maybe worst of all, it’s, well it’s deeply embarrassing. Not conducive to long-term happiness, not especially healthy. Still, I regret that damned kiss, and you may as well know it. You may as well know that the moment my lips touched Abigael’s, all I could possibly do was…” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks going from pink to red. “All I could do was imagine it was you I was kissing. Then I realized that trying to move on with someone else just because she was throwing herself at me and I was lonely and missed being touched -- hardly anyone ever touches me, by the way, least of all you. Because I’m up on that insipid pedestal where I never asked to be, treated as if I’m above feeling exactly the way I feel or wanting what I want. Well at any rate, I realized I’d rather wait for you than have to feel someone else’s kiss, someone else’s touch, because it just wasn’t good enough and there’s no comparison. So I’d rather wait for you, Macy, even if it means waiting forever. It’s not healthy, it’s just how I feel.”

“Harry, what are you talking about?” She shook her head, baffled. “I mean, you must know how I feel about you -- don’t you think it’s kind of strange I would get so close to your darklighter, who looks _exactly like you_ and is _a part of you_?”

“I understand that he’s everything I could never be, and that you were very intrigued by him. You liked your little dalliance with danger, your walk on the wild side. I guess I thought if I could take one of my own, perhaps I’d understand the appeal. Sadly, I’m afraid I still don’t get what it is that makes him so damned irresistible--”

“He’s not!” Macy insisted, throwing her hands up in the air. “God, Harry, you’re exhausting! You’re ridiculous! It’s like you don’t want to hear the truth, you’re so busy insisting to yourself that I couldn’t possibly reciprocate your feelings--”

“ _I_ don’t want to hear the truth?” Harry said just as loudly. “I’m not the one who’s been avoiding the subject for weeks!”

“I’m not the one shoving my tongue down Abigael’s throat!” Macy replied. “I’m not the one saying all this romantic stuff out of nowhere and not even giving me two seconds to process it all before assuming it’s unrequited! You’re unbelievable.”

They were walking towards each other again, tugged by the inevitable magnetic draw, both of them stubborn and sullen as ever.

“You’re absurd,” he replied smoothly, a new deliberation taking him over, sending a darkly fascinated sparkle into his eyes.

“ _You’re_ obnoxious,” she insisted as they stared each other down, breathing quick and heavy. He was, once again, _so close_ , and her fingers itched to reach out…

The irritation in Harry’s eyes shifted again to something soft and needy, but no less rough, no less demanding. “Well,” he murmured, his voice velvety and seductive, “ _You’re_ \--”

“Guys?” Mel asked, appearing in the doorway and shooting them both a confused look. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“What?” Macy asked nervously as Harry put in, “No!” They jolted away from each other with the sudden realization that their bodies had almost been pressed flush together.

“Oh, I was just looking for Maggie, figured she might be looking for Jordan, you know how that goes,” Mel said with a wan laugh.

“They know how what goes?” Maggie asked, striding up the stairs and coming to stand beside Mel as they looked over at Macy and Harry like they were an especially fascinating, soapy tv drama.

“Ah, nothing, I was making a little joke to try and break the tension in here, but I think I’d need a chainsaw for that,” Mel answered, winking at her sister.

“I need to go,” Macy announced awkwardly, practically racing out of the room, back down the stairs, needing to be home where she could hide her face in a pillow and scream for approximately 2.5 hours. 

“What was that all about?” Maggie asked, her eyes huge as Harry shrugged and Mel chortled.

“I haven’t the least idea,” Harry sniffed, his tone casual, as if his heart wasn’t thundering, as if his mind wasn’t desperately seeking an answer to that very question.


	2. I won't wonder if you're thinking of me, 'cause you're here

“Knock, knock,” Mel called out, entering Macy’s room with Maggie on her heels several hours later. 

Macy sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping through her journal, but she slammed it shut and cleared her throat now that she wasn’t alone. “Hey guys.”

“What are you up to?” Maggie drawled, transparently dying to know as Macy sighed.

“Nothing.” She picked up a rectangular gift-box with a lining of tissue paper nestled inside, just waiting for a present to be placed in there for some special recipient. “I was thinking about putting something together...for Christmas...for Harry, to um…to show how I feel, finally. But I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Mel soothed, sitting down on the bed as Maggie did the same. “I meant it when I said I thought you should give it a go with Harry. You two are miserable apart, so really, what have you got to lose?”

“Everything,” Macy revealed. “I have _everything_ to lose, Mel. You don’t have all the facts. I saw him, the other night, I saw him...kissing Abby.”

“Ewwwwwwwwwwww,” Maggie cringed, appalled. “Sorry, give me a second.” She held up a hand as she tried to metabolize the information, looking like she’d just eaten something disgustingly sour. “ _Ewwwwwwwwwww!_ Okay, I’m good. But seriously, that’s a zillion times worse than seeing Mommy kissing Santa Claus.”

“Did you talk to him about it?” Mel asked gently.

“Yeah, he said he regrets it, that he thought I didn’t want him, and he was just...trying to move on. He even said that he wished it was me, I just...I don’t know how to deal. This whole love thing is just not in my wheelhouse. I like things neat, planned-out, and this is just...this is so messy.”

“Love _is_ really messy,” Maggie agreed. “Trust me, I know. You know I know!”

Mel nodded. “Me, too. And despite the ‘ew’ factor, I can kind of understand the situation from Harry’s perspective. I mean, I kissed Jada when I was still in love with Niko.” She shrugged. “Because I thought I would never _be_ with Niko again, and I needed something. Someone, to try and patch up the wound of that. But no matter how much I cared for Jada, I wasn’t really ready to start a new relationship yet.”

“I don’t want to think of him needing someone else, anyone else,” Macy groaned, flopping back on the bed and closing her eyes, wishing she could sleep until after Christmas was over, then wake up in a world where things made sense again. “I can’t stop seeing the two of them together, like every time I _blink_ , and it’s dumb. Harry and I weren’t dating, so I have no right to be jealous. And I have no reason to doubt what he said about his feelings for me. He loves me, so why can’t I relax and open up to him?”

“I don’t doubt it either, but I get the jealousy stuff,” Maggie affirmed, taking her hand and giving an understanding squeeze. “I mean, I was jealous of Parker being with Lucy, who _was_ his actual girlfriend at the time. Talk about no right!”

“Messy,” Macy complained, “So unbearably, impossibly messy.”

“But so worth it,” Maggie assured her despite the tears fogging her eyes. “When it’s the right person. Which clearly Parker wasn’t for me—“

“Maggie,” Macy said consolingly, and then all three sisters clasped hands, but Maggie shook her head, strong even in the continued aftershocks of grief. Macy thought she would never be as strong as Maggie was, and that in this category she could only try to follow her younger sister’s example.

“I’m okay, guys,” Maggie insisted. “Everyday, a little bit more okay. I have you both, and that means everything.” She obviously didn’t want the light shed on her struggle right now, needed to work it out on her own, so when she changed the subject, Mel and Macy were too caring to object.

“Oh, by the way,” Maggie sniffed and swiped distractedly at her eyes, “Harry’s coming over tonight, so I think you should take a shower and put on your absolute cutest party dress, okay?”

“ _What_?” Macy asked with a jolt of alarm.

“It’s our family Christmas party. Remember?” Mel asked. “You’re on cheese plate assembling duty, Maggie’s putting the finishing touches on the decorations, and I’m making the coquitos.”

Right. Their...family Christmas party. For themselves and Harry, because Harry was family. The Power of Four. The plans had been made before the whole Abby debacle, and now…

New images came fluttering into Macy’s mind until she didn’t see Harry kissing Abigael anymore, until she finally understood how little that kiss mattered compared to everything else she had ever shared with him.

She pictured Harry’s beautiful, kind, troubled face, thought about the feeling of Harry’s strong arms around her and the heat of his breath by her ear, his naughtiest smirk and his most annoying frown of disapproval. The sound of his adorable voice going off on some intellectual tangent that ought to be boring, but instead was just unbearably sexy. The way he always watched out for her, always came to her if he sensed she needed support, never doubted her integrity, continually respected and admired all that she was. Maybe they weren’t so clueless after all, either one of them, if they would just open their eyes. 

A transcendently weird, elated sensation started to flood Macy’s whole being, and she suddenly knew it was completely right that this party was going forward, that he would be here soon. She wanted him here.

“That’s perfect,” she said with a wobbly smile, grabbing her robe and getting ready to head to the bathroom. 

“What's come over you all of a sudden?” Mel asked.

“Yeah, you look like Santa just showed up and gave you a check for a zillion dollars,” Maggie added.

“I have something better than that,” Macy explained as a grin spread across her face. “For the first time in weeks, I have Christmas spirit.”

She didn’t have a problem choosing the right dress for the occasion, settling on the halter-necked, silver-sequined evening gown with its black, swishy skirt and layers of gauzy fabric. The hemline of the slip rested just below her thighs, while the sheer fabric overlay skimmed her knees. There was something equally festive and sexy about the dress, and paired with the silver heels, the look amounted to what Maggie termed “straight fire.”

Her hair was pulled back on the sides and held in place by silver combs, while a little spritz of her favorite perfume, plus a swipe of maroon lipstick completed the impression that she was ready for something truly wonderful to happen, that she actually believed it could. Her own Christmas miracle, because maybe, just maybe they did exist after all.

Getting ready was practically easy, but organizing her intended present for Harry had her in a tizzy.

“Macy, this cheese isn’t going to slice itself!” Mel called upstairs. 

“I’ll be right there,” Macy assured her distractedly. She looked down at the items spread across the bed, flipping through them with gnawing indecision. _This one? No, maybe this one?_

By the time she finally made her choices and finished wrapping Harry’s gift, she knew she’d waited way too long to go down and help out in the kitchen, but her sisters didn’t bother chiding her, just slid a coquito her way as she started arranging the fresh fruit and several varieties of cheese.

“Maggie, have you seen those little crackers that are shaped like toasts--” Macy began, only to forget what she was saying when she heard the click of the front door and knew Mel was letting Harry in.

“I’ll find them,” Maggie said lightly. “Why don’t you bring Harry a coquito?”

Macy poured the drink, but hesitated again, stalling. She made up a few extra, unnecessary tasks to do in the kitchen, time slinking by with her trying to deliberate over opening words. How should she greet him after that wild, life-changing conversation from earlier today?

 _Hi, Harry, I love you, Merry Christmas, marry me, kiss me, hold me, never let me go again_? Hmm, that might be a little over-the-top.

“Girl, who are you talking to?” Maggie asked, noticing Macy standing with two coquitos in her hands, mouthing conversation-starters. “He’s right in there. Take a chance, believe in that Christmas spirit of yours. It finally feels like the timing is right.”

“Maybe so,” Macy smiled excitedly. “Thanks, Maggie.”

She found Harry alone, standing half-leaned against the doorway to the living room, his eyes fixed on the classic Christmas romcom _While You Were Sleeping_ , which was playing on tv. Sandra Bullock sat in a subway ticket booth looking forlornly broken-hearted, when all of a sudden an engagement ring was deposited in front of her, and she looked up in astonishment to see Bill Pullman leveling her with an adoring smile. _“Lucy,”_ he said, _“I need to ask you a question.”_

“Harry?” Macy asked softly, and he turned to face her slightly startled, brushing a tear back from his face. 

“Macy! Forgive me, I just...have you seen this movie? It’s really quite something.”

She set the two drinks down on the coffee table and came back to him, taking his hands and leading him to the center of the room. 

“Harry, I don’t forgive you,” she smiled as he squinted at her in total confusion. “I don’t forgive you, because you have nothing to be sorry for.”  


“Well, neither do you,” he assured her. “I never should have argued with you like that today, when I’m the one who...well, the truth is I _am_ sorry, more than I can say. I never wanted to do anything to put distance between us, yet somehow I always seem to--"

“Screw up? Ruin things that shouldn’t even be ruinable?” Macy gave a pained but tender smile. “Me, too, Harry. In fact, I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing with you lately. Until I’m so afraid of losing the one person in the world I care the most about, but everything I do just seems to make it all worse or push you further away.”

The lift in his eyebrows, the flush in his cheeks and the sudden catch in his breath told her what her words meant to him. She slid her trembling fingers over his galloping heartbeat, feeling the desperate, excited disbelief pounding even through the layers of his clothing. He ducked his head self-consciously and let out shaky breath, his answer coming huskily: “the person you care the most about?”

“Well, aside from my sisters, of course,” she smiled, making them both chuckle, still nervous, so unbelievably nervous. 

He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it, as if he thought that if he looked up at her face, this moment might disintegrate, reveal itself to be a mere figment of his imagination, that it was all too good to be true. As if he didn’t deserve her.

Macy gently tipped his chin up, then stroked another tear from his cheek. 

“Macy,” he choked out, taking her hand and pressing a kiss into her palm. He smiled at the way she quivered at the brush of his warm lips to her skin and said ardently, “What happened in the gym this morning….it was such a silly fight.”

“It was,” she confirmed, “But I’m glad we had it because it brought us here. Look around, Harry.”

They both let their eyes drift around the gorgeously decorated room, from the majestic tree decked in perfectly color coordinated and symmetrical ornaments in grand Vera-Vaughn style, to the crackling flames in the fireplace and the sight of thick snowflakes drifting lazily by outside the window. The movie carried on, its fictional happy ending softly humming along in the background of this real one, and Harry shook his head again, his face alight with joy.

“I can’t believe I thought this wasn’t going to be a merry Christmas. I thought it was going to be awful, in fact,” he confided with a soft laugh, caressing her face, circling his thumb slowly over her warm cheek, then drawing his fingers lightly over her soft, curly hair, looking at her as if she was an angel. “Instead, it’s a dream come true.”

“Yes,” she murmured, moving a little closer, feeling the chemistry sizzling between them, the shift in their constant tension, from sadness and anger to pure bliss. In her heels, she was actually a tiny bit taller than him, but that wasn’t why she noticed what was above them before he did. She’d maneuvered him to this one place in the room on purpose. “Look up, Harry.”

Harry glanced up and saw the mistletoe as understanding dawned on his face. He looked so damn cute in his annual Christmas sweater, she couldn’t resist him another second. 

“I’m in love with you, Harry Greenwood, just you. You’re all I want for Christmas. What do you say to that?” And there it was: she’d finally just _said_ it.

He closed the scant distance between them, placing a slow, tantalizing kiss on her lips, cradling her face in his hands as though no one could be more precious. Macy moaned softly, wrapped up in the warm press of his beautiful mouth, the feel of his hands on her, at long last. 

“I have so very much to say to that, Macy.” He breathed the words against her mouth where his kiss still tingled, making her ache and hunger for more. “Perhaps I should start by telling you how ravishing you look tonight.”

“Maybe I should answer that that sweater is equal parts adorable and appalling,” she teased, tugging at the soft fabric as he ran one finger down her spine, leaving exhilarated shivers on her skin, bare above the low back of her dress. “And it belongs on my bedroom floor.”

Harry gave her that smirk, her favorite one, and snapped his fingers, granting her wish just that easily. Soon after they reappeared in her room, Macy thought she heard two sets of giggles coming from downstairs, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing again.

She’d thought about making love to Harry plenty of times, but in her dreams it was never quite like this. Macy knew she was still kind of inexperienced in the realm of sex, and her few encounters with Galvin, combined with her almost innocent, tentative imaginings, had done absolutely nothing to prepare her for how different this would be.

With Galvin, everything had seemed to unravel in a hurry. Galvin kissed as if it was some kind of race he was trying to win, rapid, repetitive kisses interspersed with equally fast swipes of his tongue against hers. She could never quite get his face at the right angle to truly taste and savor his lips, could never seem to align their desires correctly so that sex felt like more than an extension of that same race he’d started. And she was secretly disappointed, wondering if that was all there was to it, but she couldn’t fully admit the feeling to herself in the confusing aftermath of grief and guilt. In fact, she had only recently allowed herself to ponder the issue as her feelings for Harry grew and she tried to reconcile them with what her previous understanding of seeming-love had been.

Harry lowered her to the bed and kissed her with ravenous but slow intensity, licking at the seam of her lips and easing their mouths together in a gradually building crescendo until there was nothing but the hot glide of their tongues, the echoes of their moans into each others’ mouths, the way he took his time sucking her lower lip, biting at it, then resuming the same sweetly torturous exploration. 

“How could I live without this?” he asked when they broke apart only for the benefit of breathing. “Macy, I need you too much, it’s...all-encompassing. I can't believe I’ve been such an absolute --”

She cut his self-deprecating words off with a kiss, wrapping her legs around his hips to tug him closer until they were pressed together, her dress rising to expose her thigh high stockings and the slick fabric of her panties against the rigid weight of his erection bulging through his trousers. 

“Don’t,” she whispered, kissing all over his face, his cheeks, his jaw, loving the scrape of his stubble against her lips, the little sighs of happiness he released with every attention, the ragged groans she evoked from him when she rubbed her aching center against his girthy arousal twice more. “Don’t doubt yourself, don’t regret anything you’ve done, or be afraid of how much you need me. We’re here, Harry. And I promise, I won’t put you on a pedestal. I want your emotion, all of it, your passion, not your perfection.” She kissed his ear, then nibbled the soft lobe before saying gently, “And you don’t have to worship the ground I walk on, either. I don’t need to be worshipped, just loved.”

“Macy,” he smiled, stroking his hand up her thigh possessively, “I can love you _and_ worship you at the same time. That is, I’m happy to try, if you don’t mind. I think you might like it,” he suggested.

“Oh,” she blurted, suddenly overwhelmed. She nodded, caressing his arms. “Okay.”

Then it seemed he wanted to kiss every single inch of her body, easing the dress from her with her near-liquid compliance, making her tremble and whimper as he lavished his mouth over her smooth skin from her neck all the way down to her toes. By the time he got to that point, Macy was aching from more than his biting and sucking at her neck, her breasts, hips and thighs, wet from much, much more than his insatiable tongue. It was the ceaseless depth of his hungry devotion that undid her, and he intensified the sensation by rising back up, his face above hers, eyes heavy-lidded, lips swollen and his hair a complete disaster from her fingers twisting and tugging at it. 

“I think we should leave these on,” he teased, pulling at her stockings just to let them slap against her skin again. 

She giggled, then bit her lip. “I _might_ have been hoping you’d see those before the night was over.”

“Hmm,” he considered, “Good girl. And now, I _think_....despite all that kissing, I missed a spot.”

“Harry,” she sighed as he crawled back down her body and dipped his face between her thighs, kissing her there most enthusiastically of all, expertly lapping and suckling at the exact places designed to drive her insane. She wreaked more havoc on his hair, but he didn’t seem to mind, or it only urged him on as he built up the pleasure inside her, following the cues of her body’s reactions and the sounds he brought out of her to know when to pick up speed, when to turn his attention to her clit, and she broke on a shuddering mewl, devastating ecstasy pouring through her.

“How can I not worship you when you’re this beautiful?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his lips covered in her essence before he licked them and she lost all remaining self-control.

How dare he still be fully clothed? Even though her body was tingling and shaking so hard she could barely function, she sat up and whipped off that much-loved sweater, then treated his t-shirt, trousers and boxers with the same frantic impatience before shoving his socks off with her toes and pulling him back against her.

“God,” she gasped as the reality of their naked bodies crushed together gave her a whole new definition of happiness. 

His scent was going to be all over her, that peppery bergamot, plus an undertone of cinnamon and nutmeg telling her he must have baked those gingerbread biscuits again, the ones with the yummy icing she loved, and brought them for tonight’s party. That was just so charmingly _Harry_ of him, but she was so damn excited right now, out of her mind drunk on him without having sipped one drop of coquito, and somehow the feelings were all tangled together. Comfort, excitement, and fervent need soothed by the certainty it would be satiated, time and time again.

 _Harry,_ she thought emphatically. Such a simple thing, a name to encompass all this love, the name of the one she needed so much, so she said it aloud a few times for good measure, letting herself know it was real. “Harry,” she sighed, nuzzling her face against his neck as he lined his throbbing erection to her damp slit and she moaned her assent, loving and intent, “Yes.”

The sweet slide of their bodies and the delighted grind of their hips soon had the mattress slick and the bedframe shaking, the floor creaking as Harry rocked into her, slow but hard, in long strokes that had her scratching his back with one hand and grabbing his ass with the other, only needing more, deeper, as far as he could take her into this rapturous delectation. 

She was pretty sure Mel and Maggie had known exactly where the brand new couple had gone and why, that they had both been subtly playing Cupid, probably guessing at this outcome. It explained why her sisters had left the two of them to their own devices. Later, they would probably make some laughing excuse about needing to get in some last minute Christmas shopping, but that was nothing but a hazy thought somewhere in the distance for Macy at this moment. All she knew was the feeling of Harry filling her up and making her complete as she surrounded him with her love, and she didn’t have to smother her cries of helpless surrender anymore than he did.

“I want this to last,” he shivered against her as the pleasure ratcheted within him to the point he couldn’t hold back, and she grinned her exhilarated approval. God, how she wanted to see him lose total control, wanted to be the one beneath him watching him fall apart, the look on his face, the sound of his voice, _yes_. She wanted to hold him through it, let him know she always wanted to.

“Come for me,” she urged, massaging her hands over his gorgeous arms, which were tensed as his hands pressed to the mattress and his head hung over her, lost in decadent craving to possess her wholly, to give her all of himself in turn. “Let go, Harry, please, I need to see you. We’ve got all night.”

The fact that she said that drove him past all reason, and he groaned, snapping his hips against her as the sound of their skin slapping together and the hot pressure of his thick cock inside her tight walls made her shatter again, quickly followed by Harry’s own release. 

“ _Fuck_ , oh, God, Macy,” He cried out, overwhelmed and spasming against her, bending to kiss her lips as he rode out his orgasm and extended her own pleasure. She struggled to recognize her own voice, high-pitched and desperate, but there was no more room for embarrassment or worries about being messy; this was their own special version of perfect. Finally they were left delirious, numb-limbed and clingy, sprawled together on her sheets.

“Macy,” he smiled when the power of speech came back to him. He played with her hair, his expression wondrous. “You’re really here.”

“I love you, Harry, so much,” she smiled back, hugging him close. How had she smothered those words for so long when saying them out loud was already getting to be addictive? She could never tire of the way his face lit up when she told him. “And hey!”

He blinked at her with his most adorable puppy face, making her laugh. “I have something for you,” she announced, reaching to her bedside table to retrieve a wrapped box.

They sat up in bed, naked and entirely at ease with that, so comfortable together that she couldn’t stop grinning if she wanted to. 

He ran his fingers curiously over the merry red wrapping paper emblazoned with skiing snowmen. “Whatever could it be?” 

Then with a mischievous smirk, he ripped it open, the mirth falling from his face when he saw what lay in the tissue paper. Macy’s heart squeezed at the vulnerable move it was to give him this, but she also knew it was right, it was what they both needed.

“Macy,” Harry sighed, amazed as he sifted through the neat stack of drawings which she had taken from her journal and given to him so that he could finally understand what these past few months had been for her. 

Page after page of drawings of Harry, his every expression and minute gesture painstakingly replicated so that she could feel closer to him even as she feared getting that close in real life, just something to keep her going in the melancholy ache of her hesitation. 

There had only been one portrait of James, and it happened to be the one her sisters found in her journal that day they needed a sample of something to represent her deepest desires and what she deprived herself of. And of course, the drawing of James had worked for the spell, because he was a part of Harry, and Harry was the source of all her heart’s longing. Her infatuation with the darklighter was just an extension of trying to know Harry, just another expression of the same attraction, after all. But she knew now she didn’t need anyone but the man by her side, the one gazing through tear-tinged eyes at her artwork.

There had been one portrait of James, and dozens of Harry.

She shrugged. “I tried to pick just one, but then I thought what the hell? If I’m making a confession _this_ gargantuan, I may as well show you them all. I wanted you to know how much you’re on my mind, and how I…”

His tearful smile made it impossible for her to form more words in that moment, so he kissed her warm lips and whispered, “Oh, Macy, these are...thank you. This means the world to me, and so do you.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” she murmured sweetly, finding that soft, hot tears slid from her own lashes until they were kissing at salty tracks on each others’ faces for a while, nuzzling into each other with sighs of contentment.

“Oh, I have a gift for you as well,” he remembered, moving as if he thought he was getting out of this bed anytime before dawn, as far as she was concerned. 

“Get back here, mister,” she insisted, tugging at his arm. “I’m not letting you out of my sight this soon.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, humor dancing in his eyes. “The gift is jewelry.”

“Okay,” Macy affirmed quickly, “Go get it.”

He laughed and threw his pants and t-shirt back on, orbed down to the living room, then reappeared with a box in his hands, wrapped in green paper dotted by festive candy canes, the shape of it that tell-tale dimension which shouted, “necklace”! 

“Harry,” Macy breathed as he handed it to her, “I can’t believe you still got me a present, after the way we’ve been at odds lately.”

“Oh please, it was all I could do not to get you many more presents than that.” he rolled his eyes, peeling his clothes back off as her jaw dropped.

“Well, your sisters are for some indiscernible reason no longer at home,” Harry noted smugly. “I suppose there’s no reason for us to stand on ceremony such as ‘wearing clothes.’”

“I suppose not,” Macy approved, pressing her hand to his gorgeous chest and roving down his firm skin, over his beguiling abs and that cute little softness in his belly before his breath caught and he snatched her wrist.

“As you said, we’ve got all night, and if you go any further right now, I’m not going to be able to wait another second before having you again.” 

“God,” Macy gulped, “Please hold that thought.” She eagerly tore the paper from her gift, then lifted the lid of the box to reveal a lovely necklace on a silver chain, an amethyst butterfly with an outline of its wings criss-crossed over the shimmering gem in delicate crystals. 

“Oh, Harry, it’s perfect,” she sighed as he helped her put it on. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, my darling.” He gave her that pleased, proud little smile he always wore when he managed to do something to make her happy, and she melted at the sight. 

“You know, you’ve seemed so far away from me recently,” she remembered, haunted by the memory. She touched his face, drawing him closer as he watched her reverently. “But you’ve been right here all along, haven’t you, Harry?”

“Right here,” he promised, sweeping her back into his arms until she sat astride him, pressing burning kisses to his lips. “No matter where else I am, I’m always here with you, my love, and I always will be,” he promised, and she chased the promise with him all night long, finding that this, too, was a certainty...a destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story and chapter titles taken from the song "It's Not Christmas Without You" by Katharine McPhee. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting, and have a wonderful holiday season!


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